One, Two, Three, Exactly One Hundred, Floored
by murderofonerose
Summary: As far as Nathan was concerned, it was only a stupid bet if he lost. Losing hadn’t actually been on his to-do list.


**Characters:** Nathan, Toki

**Words:** 735

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N:** I will probably continue this, and it will probably get slashy. ... As soon as I figure out what happens next. I'm new to writing this pairing, I'm not sure what to do with it.

* * *

**One, Two, Three, Exactly One Hundred, Floored**

* * *

Nathan was a little annoyed when Toki managed to drink him under the table. Literally.

He felt better when Toki fell on his ass and ended up there as well about ten seconds later. And slightly bad about it, too, since that only happened because he'd grabbed the Norwegian by the ankles and yanked his feet out from under him.

But only slightly. They were both on the same level now. It was only fair.

"Heeey," Toki complained. "You dids dat…" He attempted to stand, then after a moment gave up on that idea and just rolled, moving further under the table so he could accuse Nathan at closer range.

"So?" Nathan grunted. He was perfectly willing to stay where he was. Fucking floor kept tilting anyway, if he tried to go anywhere he'd probably end up sliding in the wrong direction.

Toki ended up facing Nathan, roughly parallel to him on the floor but with his feet about level with the bigger man's knees. It made him feel taller, and the tallest person, he had learned, was often the most important. "So's, I still wins ats drinking."

Nathan scowled in Toki's general direction. "You've been drinking since, fucking… b'fore noon…"

The response he got was a big, sloppy grin. "Ams practices!" Toki slurred.

"…Ugh."

He didn't really feel like arguing the point. Nathan had already learned (the hard way, from Pickles, in the early days before Toki had even joined the band) that under the right circumstances superior alcohol tolerance could easily beat greater body mass… but sometimes it was hard to remember that Toki wasn't a kid, no matter how much of one he acted like most of the time.

Around them, klokateers who had been positioned as discreetly as possible around the bar (which wasn't very, but none of the guys in the band were known for their observational skills while drinking) began to approach.

"Anysways, you lossss… didn'ts win," Toki continued, "so I gets de bet."

"Don' talk to me about that," Nathan grumbled. "Wait 'til tomorrow… when I'm done being hung-over." He looked around blearily as the table was moved and he and his band mate were hauled to their feet.

Vertical. Brutal.

"Wowee," Toki mumbled, "I gots de rushings heads…"

* * *

The next morning, Nathan was pretty sure he hated everything even more than usual.

Especially when Toki came bouncing into his room, apparently completely recovered already – or maybe just better at being too stupid to care about feeling like crap.

"Hi Nat'ans," Toki said loudly, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

"Ugh." Nathan rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head, trying to block out the morning-person vibes. If the guy called him a sleepyhead he was going to have to punch him in the face, just on principle for reminding him too much of his mom. "Fuck off."

Toki didn't budge. "No ways, you lost de bets last nights so you can't tells _me_ whats to do."

Nathan lifted the pillow a bit to glare at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Then it hit him. Shit, he'd forgotten about that.

"You gots to do's what I says for a ens-tire day," the rhythm guitarist told him smugly.

"Noooooooooooooo!" Nathan threw the pillow back over his face.

The self-satisfied tone dropped out of Toki's voice immediately. "It was yours isdea to makes dat bet ins de foirst places!" he whined. "You can'ts just backs outs of its now just since you gots a hands-over, we all gots ones of dose likes, likes every afstersnoon!"

Nathan groaned into his pillow. If Toki was going to whine like that until he got his way – and the thing was, he _would_ – then resistance wasn't worth it.

"Okay _fine_," Nathan growled, lowering the pillow reluctantly. "Stop talking for a minute. I feel like I'm listening to a cheese grater… It's brutal."

Toki brightened immediately. The guy had the attention span of a goldfish sometimes.

"Okays! My first demands ams… you gets out of beds rights now!" Toki declared. -- part fourteen spacious. curtain around both their faces, making the already small bedroom (compared to his usual room) seem

Grumbling, Nathan did as he was told. "I'm gonna get a fucking glass of water." He headed for the bathroom, catching sight of his alarm clock and scowling at the fact that it was only nine in the morning. Practically dawn, as far as he was concerned.

The day stretched out before him, brutally long and mocking his pain.


End file.
